


When the Ribbon Breaks

by cottlel



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Daddy Issues, M/M, Pacific Rim Kink Meme, References to Supernatural (TV), prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2017-12-21 20:32:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cottlel/pseuds/cottlel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chuck Hansen is the captain of The Jeager's field hockey team.  Two years after an accident that almost costed him dearly, he finds it difficult to keep his life afloat. In between his issues with his dad and perpetual anger, he struggles to accept that maybe refuge is in the only place he doesn't want it to be, and that nobody needs to suffer on their own. </p><p>Highschool!AU, Chuck/Raleigh , Pacific Rim Kink Meme Prompt</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's the Random Acts of Kindness

**Author's Note:**

> It was supposed to be a minifill at first...before I developed it into a monster. I read hockey and lost my mind, since I play hockey myself. Daddy issue galore. 
> 
> Chuck/Raleigh
> 
> Prompt: http://pacificrimkink.livejournal.com/350.html?thread=11870#t11870

Hockey's an unforgiving sport, Chuck learns the moment he decides he's going to play. He falls in love with the smell of sweat, the delicious pull of overexerted muscles and the adrenaline from knowing that a bad manoeuvre can break someone's bones, or make them bleed. 

Blood covers Raleigh's face like war paint, and he's being held back by coach Herc. Chuck himself is trapped under Aleksis' sturdy arms and even if he's trying to break free from his grasp he knows better than that. He's delighted when he sees Raleigh spit mingle with the blood from his broken gums.

Once they've calmed down, he pushes Aleksis's away, and this one lets him go. He walks towards Raleigh with an extra kick to his step, satisfied that he's finally managed to make him click.

Raleigh's seething and his breath is heavy, but he doesn't say a word. Chuck can't help but let the most arrogant smile he's ever managed to creep into his face.

xxx

In retrospective, maybe messing with Mako was taking it too far. Specially when Chuck knows she isn't half bad. Herc had gotten so angry at him that, for the first time in his life Chuck thought that his father was actually about to smack him across the face, instead of just wishing he could. Amazingly, Herc had settled for sending him to his room, and to be honest, Chuck didn't care enough to argue his way out of it. In the end, he kind of expected it.

"You think you're really manly, yeah? You're nothing but a goddamned child!" Herc had yelled angrily, face scarlet "You're lucky that I'm your father, or else I might have thrown you straight into Stacker's office!" Maybe, just maybe, that could have been disappointment in Herc's voice. Chuck could spit at it.

Once he gets upstairs, Max meets him with a sloppy kiss. He goes to the bathroom, carefully examining his busted lip with nimble fingers, and winces when the ice pack makes contact with his face. The wet drag of soaped tissue on his brow is both relieving and painful, but it's a necessary evil. He can't help but wonder if Raleigh is doing the same thing. He can still feel the resistance of Raleighs face against his fist.

And God, had the bruising been worth it.

xxx

Herc never spoke beyond what was necessary, but the stillness of the air the next day is felt by both of them. School seems to blur around the edges. The day only gets tedious when Herc grabs him by the arm when he's exiting the locker rooms. 

"You're not coming near that field until you've apologized to Raleigh." He says simply.

Chuck stops, and it takes him three seconds to understand, two more to erupt "What? Are you out of your fucking mind?"

"Have some respect, will ya? A hockey player that can't be part of a team, is no player I need," he turns and leaves him standing, then he pauses. "And don't you _dare_ leave the field, Chuck. Or so help me."

It doesn't surprise Herc when Chuck doesn't apologize. He knows his son enough to know he would gladly endure the humiliation of being left out of practice if it meant sparing himself from admitting his mistakes. 

Chuck started to feel like a petulant child and that angered him, but the truth is he wasn't going to say he was sorry for something he was definitely not. He was not about to apologize because he had nothing to apologize for. Everything was Raleigh's fault, for being so fucking useless, for giving up so easily. It wasn't Chuck who screwed Raliegh over, it wasn't **Chuck** who failed _Raleigh_. 

Because of him, Chuck had almost lost the last broken thing he could call a family. 

But even with this so fresh in all of their minds, the team didn't seem to mind at all. Not even Herc, he realized now, stood beside him. But he couldn't just let Raleigh be, let him forget how he almost broke everything. Chuck Hansen couldn't do that.

He wasn't about to _apologize_.

And to top it all of, the way Raleigh keeps sending him stray glances makes him want to kick him around all over again. Raleigh didn't look happy, or satisfied at this apparent victory, at the unjust punishment. He looked... something close to sympathetic. 

And Chuck could spit at it. That last thing he needs is somebody's pity, much less of Becket, of all people. 

xxx

Whatever remnants of hope Chuck has of Herc forgetting this ridiculousness is dissolved when his father motions him to the bench yet again. It's the third training since he busted Raleigh up and he's still holding his ground.

"I curse the moment you became so headstrong, Chuck." he says, but Chuck disagrees. It's that bullheaded determination that got them all through the hard times, so Herc could shove it.

Herc always makes practice long and excruciating for his players, but today Chuck can't feel any of it because he's watching from afar. He's merely the spectator at a show he built, and it's every ounce as frustrating as it ought to be. 

After practice ends, he returns to the musky locker rooms. Herc doesn't wait for him before leaving; if Chuck is grown enough to "fight like a man", he can also walk his arse back home like a man.

All the boys have left by now, Chuck thinks, so in the safety of the locker room, at least, he's safe from scrutiny he doesn't want and attention he doesn't need. He's wrong, he realizes, when Raleigh startles him by stepping out of the showers, a thick cloud of vapour following suit. On another occasion, Chuck might have picked up a fight. Now he only felt tired, and the strong desire to get out of there. Raleigh's completely naked, and Chuck finds himself staring at every angry scratch or beautiful blue-black bruise, old or new, that Raleigh's shirt usually keeps from view. He can also see the scars that trace the contour of his left arm.

Nudity is nothing Chuck has ever been particularly afraid of, but he feels that its justified to feel inadequate when a person you feel strongly about lets themselves be seen in such a vulnerable state. Letting Chuck see the flaws of his skin suddenly seems a very intimate thing to do, as if Raleigh was actually trusting Chuck not to say a word. 

And he finds it difficult to betray this...trust or whatever it is. 

"What are you looking at?" Raleigh asks after a while, and Chuck realizes he's not as discrete as he thought he was. He shuts the locker's door and is ready to head out for an hour long walk back home. He has no intention of answering. "You know, coach has already left."

He pauses for a second. "I know."

"You want a ride?"

_No_.

"Sure."


	2. Misery Loves Company

Chuck _isn't sure._ He's confused. 

"Why are you doing this?" he asks because, really. Why bother?

"Doing what?" he answers back. He's stuffing his gear in the trunk. Chuck absent-mindedly peels the sticker that's pasted to the smooth dashboard. He's a little ticked off, to say the least.

"You know. I kicked your ass, yeah?" 

At this, Raleigh starts laughing, closing the trunk and circling the car to sit besides Chuck. "Hey, stop playing with that." he says, smoothing his hand over the sticker. _Gypsy Danger_

When he starts up the engine, he looks at Chuck, and shrugs. "Just sounded like the right thing to do, I guess."

_Just sounded like the right thing to do?_

What an asshole. 

xxx

After that, Chuck discovers that it's quite difficult to keep treating Raleigh like shit. Which in turn, fuels his desire to beat him up. By the time the fourth practice comes around and Chuck sits on the bench on his own initiative, Herc realises that Chuck would rather not play the entire season than apologize. So he lets him into the field again. He's still the captain, after all.

It's been a month since Chuck saw Raleigh's blood on his knuckles; not once has he spoken to him beyond basic commands, and somehow that's an improvement. Herc perceives that something has changed inside the team's dynamics, but can't quite pinpoint what it is. 

The State Championship Preliminaries are a week away, and with such an important date nearing, the training sessions are increased in both time and frequency. Fortunately, nobody bails. Maybe it shouldn't surprise Herc as much as it does, since anybody who doesn't love the sport it shouldn't be playing it in the first place. 

The boys, however, can feel the tension rising; In subtle things like the way Chuck's voice cracks when yelling on the field, or abysmally obvious like the renewed vigour of coach Herc's motivational speeches. 

And with that very same energetic attitude, he forces the boys to train like their lives depended on it. It's half-way through the year and the cheerleaders move out of the gym to start their on-field practices, making of the boy's sweaty bodies an spectacle worth watching.

Everything is working out fine for the team, but something is still not quite right with Chuck. His yells start to become too strained and the thin vein on his temple pulses too frequently. 

However, Chuck is not the only one who's not really okay.

Too many times, when they hit the showers or take a water break, Chuck notices how Raleigh looks at him when he thinks he's not watching. The word "arousal" leaves his mind before he can replace it with bewilderment. 

xxx

"Damn." Chuck mutters under his breath, this time out of things to yell. There are no words of improvement, no way he can play that move down because, quite frankly, it had been brilliant. There's sweat pooling in his every crevice as he stands in the middle of the field, red in the face and panting for air. Twenty seconds for the match to end, and Raleigh manages to score one of the finest goals to grace his hockey playing career. He angles the stick just right to intercept the rocketing ball, and it flies into the net like it belongs there. Clean, succinct. Amazing. Chuck starts to doubt his judgement. Where did the compliments come from, anyway?

Unfortunately, he's not the only one that thinks that, and the team is circling Raleigh before he can even wipe the sweat from his forehead or scream victory. 

"Hey, don't be such a spoil sport, yeah?" Herc says to Chuck once he reaches the bench, throwing him a towel. "That was a bloody fantastic goal."

"It was," he blurts out, and something like hate-but-not-quite bubbles inside of him. That is the goal that classifies them to the Championship this year. Chuck snorts. Talk about redemption.

When the rest of the team come to the bench to join them, Chuck tosses Raleigh his stained towel. Raleigh, who had been talking to one of the Wei's, grabs it before it can land on his face and blinks. 

"It was about time you were of some use." Chuck says. But his voice sounds much less vindictive than it could have, and Raleigh can't help but smile. That's the closest to praise he'll ever hear from Chuck Hansen, he realizes. They all walk ceremoniously to the other team and shake each other's hands as they say "Well played.", yet Chuck only wants to shove them around, yell into their faces that they won.

It's Friday afternoon, and there's nothing sweeter than a flawless victory and a wild weekend. Unlike previous years, they now have a reason to celebrate at the post-prelims party.

"Are you going?" Raleigh asks Chuck over the howling of the team and the indiscriminate congratulatory punches to his good arm. He doesn't need to ask where.

"Just because you're shining doesn't mean you're the star, mate." he says, unable to keep the smug grin from his face, and Raleigh laughs. For once, there's no tension in the room. 

They could get used to it.

xxx

The party is loud and rowdy, and Chuck feels more comfortable with the plastic cup in his hand than he feels in his own bedroom most of the time. The bass kicks his eardrums as a group of hot cheerleaders look at him from under long fluttery eyelashes and juicy lips. He winks at the tallest one of the group, doesn't realize how quickly that quirk went between her legs. In the kitchen he can hear the distinctive chant of encouragements for the favourite one at beer pong, and a ring of screeching drunk girls.

Raleigh finds him sitting with his back against the cream wall of the living room ten minutes later, cradling a bottle of beer with both hands and a blank expression on his face. He thinks of talking to him, but Chuck spots him first.

"Now is my turn to ask what are _you_ looking at, mate." he says, his voice steadier than what Raleigh thought it would be, and Chuck tilts his head only slightly, maybe defiantly.

"I'm just wondering how are you going to drive back home when you're so drunk." he says, and the downward pull of Chuck's lips makes him wonder if he should really be talking to him at all. 

"That's none of your damn business, is it?" he answers. And really, he's right, so he's about to leave, when Chuck stands up "What's the deal with you, anyway? It's the first time I've seen you in one of these parties in a long time."

"Yeah, grief does that to you." he deadpans, and the comment seems to sober Chuck up, if only a little bit. He knows how Yancy died, so why pretend? 

The air between them ceases to stir. 

"I don't have a ride home," Chuck admits after a while, and Raleigh looks at him because he has nothing left to say. "Maybe you can ride me." 

"...What?"

"Back home," Chuck hurries to finish, and Raleigh can see the tips of his ears turn the deepest red he's ever seen. Chuck wont look at him now. "You could give me a ride back home."

Raleigh can't help the strangled laugh that comes out of his mouth. Or the dawning realization that he's suddenly half-hard.

"Sure."

xxx

"It's a really sweet ride you've got." Chuck says now, not being able to fathom why he didn't say that last time, and he palms the hood of the Impala with a broad hand. His slurring is so minimal it mingles with his accent and almost goes undetected. Raleigh looks at the reflection of the street lights on his car, and can't help but agree with Chuck, though. 

"She's beautiful." he says as they climb onto the front seats of the car. He pauses before starting the engine. It takes him several heartbeats to be able to say "She was Yancy's."

The silence stretches but it isn't awkward.

"Is that so?" Chuck mumbles. Yancy Becket, that man that marked the history of The Jagers hockey team with twenty-five goals out of forty throughout the entire season. The man had been a legend, up until the moment he died, and with him, his reputation and all respect and admiration Chuck had for him. "Did you fix her yourself?" he says in an attempt to divert his thoughts.

"Yeah." Raleigh replies, by now lost in thinking about his brother like he often does. After a moment, Raleigh looks at Chuck and suddenly stops the car. 

"Woah, mate-"

"I don't want to go back home." he says simply. Chuck looks lost. "Let's go grab a beer."

_But...we're not friends_

Somehow, Chuck bites back the stingy remark.

They go to a gas station and debate on whether or not the cashier in the convenience store will let them get away with purchasing the alcohol with no ID. 

"I've got this." Chuck says, and he sounds too determinate to be going to flirt his way out of legal standards. Raleigh stays at the back of the store, pretending to look really interested at the buy one, take two discounts on the party snacks area. 

"Hey," He hears Chuck say. His voice is drenched in the heaviest, sexiest Australian accent he can manage, and Raleigh wonders for a moment how the cashier could hope to stand a chance. 

And surely enough, twenty minutes later, they are parked in the middle of a empty stretch of road with a six-pack in between them. They crack their first can open and drink silently for a while. They both know that they shouldn't be doing this, that the police go on patrols regularly. But Chuck still has the buzz from the alcohol in his blood, and Raleigh's too tired to care.

"I still can't believe she fell for it." Raleigh comments.

"What? Oh, the cashier?" Chuck huffs, cocky grin ever present "Yeah. But I can't blame her."

Raleigh raises an eyebrow. "Oh really?" 

"Absolutely. Besides, she was hot."

"Was she?" Raleigh says, and Chuck suddenly realizes how close they are, even if neither has moved. Raleigh's looking at him like that again. Something he can't discern stirs at the pit of his stomach. 

"Yeah." He answers, unable to break the eye contact. Then he veers in his seat, swinging his arm around the head rest because he can look at Raleigh better this way, and then takes a swig of his beer. "Really hot." 

"I think she digged your accent." Raleigh comments, his voice suddenly hoarse and he has to cough a couple of times. His insides start to go liquid. 

"They all do." Chucks says, and he must be drunk because his eyes start going places. Raleigh starts to shift uncomfortably on his seat, and he can't avoid feeling the slide of his half-hard cock against the leather seat. Chuck looks at him, quickly swiping his tongue over his bottom lip "Right, _Ra_ leigh?"

It's the way he says his name that makes something click inside Raleigh's brain, and fuck it all, he holds Chuck's face with both hands and brings them into a kiss. It's not romantic, it's full with unsolved tension and confusion. A kiss that tastes of beer and aggression and sweet, sweet arousal. Everything's happen too quickly, and somehow they manage to crawl into the space of the back seats, Chuck straddling Raliegh and sliding his tongue over the other's lips.

"I've seen how you stare at me in the locker room, you know," Chuck breathes into Raleigh's ear once they break the kiss, fumbling with the hem Raleigh's t-shirt with quick fingers. "When you think I'm not watching." Chuck runs a palm over Raleigh's bulge and cracks up a grin. Then he looks right into his eyes. Raleigh swallows, colour unwillingly spreading from his cheeks all the way down to his neck, making his cock twitch.

"You're drunk." he croaks, and he know's he'll kick himself for it. Even if he's aching for it, he can't do it. Not like this, not now. 

He pushes Chuck off himself gently "I need to take you home, Hansen." 

xxx

 

It's no wonder they almost get into another fist fight. Raleigh half expects that when he decides to open his big mouth. Chuck never was one to tolerate rejection easily. 

_"You fucking started it!" Chuck screams, shoving Raleigh away with powerful arms. They're outside of the car now, and Chuck is walking away with his hands dug deep into his jacket's pockets._

_"Can you be less of an arrogant asshole and_ listen _to me, for Christ sake?" He asks, following him down the empty stretch of road._

_Then Chuck turns around and fists his hands on Raleigh's shirt. The look that takes over his face is one of hatred he hadn't felt in a very long time._

_"If you **ever** touch me again, I'll kill you," he says, and then shoves him so far away that Raleigh almost falls back on his ass. Then, just before he leaves, Chuck turns and spits "And if you tell anyone about this, so help me God."_

So that had been that. He had to let Chuck leave, even if he knew the extra mile he had to walk to get to his house because of the beer detour. Raleigh was sure that Chuck would sober up fairly quickly after that. 

He sighs, and runs his hand through his dishevelled hair. The only thing he gets for his chivalry is a neglected erection and one friend less.


	3. Doing What's Right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta MIA'd on me and I can't finder, reason why my update's late. I'm really sorry D: I hope you enjoy! I'll try to update the day after tomorrow, although it'll probably be late at night!

There's only two days left for the nationals and Chuck hasn't even looked Raleigh's way since that weekend. Maybe in another situation, Raleigh would have been relieved. Right now? It was a pain in the ass. 

Herc wonders what happened with his son, because Chuck was suddenly more aggressive than he'd ever seen him. Even if it wasn't affecting their practically non-existent relationship that much, it was hindering his performance on the field.

"Get a grip of yourself, will ya!" Herc screams from the bench the third time one of the Wei's manages to make Chuck trip over his own feet. He's positively frothing from the mouth. His moves are faster but clumsier. Forceful but useless. It's like Chuck had forgotten how to reason and tried to cover it up with unmeasured crassness. 

To be truthful, what Chuck _had_ forgotten was how horrible it was to doubt himself. The way he saw it, he had no option now that he was forced to understand what was happening. As he hits the ball aimlessly, he thinks _What's happening to me? _. Their training ends with the midfielder wounded from Chuck's reckless ball-hammering, and that pisses Herc and Chuck equally as much.__

__They hit the showers. It seems like Raleigh somehow catches the hint, because he's nowhere to be seen._ _

__"What the hell was that?" Herc asks him once they are in the car and Chuck, somewhat subdued, looks out of the window and tries to ignore him._ _

__He opens his mouth when too long has passed and they're still not on their way "Could we just...not do this?" he asks._ _

__Even Chuck can feel that he's tearing another whole in this...thing they share. He can't will himself to care._ _

__"Son, I-" Herc starts to say, and Chuck's eyes turn to slits when he hear's the word "son" because it sounds so broken when it's played by his father's tongue. Herc sighs. "Maybe things would be different if your Mothe-"_ _

__"Don't." he cuts him off. He looks like he's a time bomb. "Don't you dare."_ _

__And when he sees the strain behind his eyes, Herc stops trying._ _

__xxx_ _

__Chuck has trouble sleeping the night before their first match. He tries everything: brewing chamomile tea, jogging around the block with Max and even taking a second shower. Nothing seems to dull his anxiety, which in turn brings him more unease. He knows he can't be tired before even stepping on the field._ _

__It's Friday night once again, and memories of things he wants to push back flood his mind in the middle of the dead silence. Sometime around midnight, he curses Raleigh Becket. Around one, he finds himself ripped between exasperation and the foreign urge to cry. He doesn't notice his body slipping into unconsciousness._ _

___\---  
 __  
He's standing alone in the street when the siren flares impregnate the houses with shades of blue and red. He's just standing there, barehanded and scared beyond his wits. The gravel scratches his bare soles and the icy air of the night cuts through his throat. They took Herc. They took his_ dad _, and he doesn't even know why._

___The very next day it's all over the news: "Young Hockey Star Flips Car Over, Kills Two."_ _ _

___Chuck is fifteen again and doesn't understand why or where the CPS is taking him, but he sure as hell puts up a fight. He still doesn't understand why they won't let him see his dad, or what does that accident have anything to do with them. Yancy Becket, 18, drunk and speeding across the streets gets himself and his two friends killed, his younger brother in the car. When Chuck finally connects the dots, his stomach seems to drop ten feet._ _ _

___Everything turns black, and then he's standing in a court of clowns._ _ _

___Chuck is there when Stacker lies to the jester judge and tells him Herc had nothing to do with the accident. His voice is so thick with authority that nobody can doubt his word, nobody but Chuck. Stacker's words swirl inside of Chuck's brain, twisting the reality around him and he can't tear them out. There is no evidence that can prove Stacker Pentecost wrong, so they let Herc go._ _ _

___Even so, no amount of jittery laughter or important words can make Chuck forget the truth. His father killed the lot of them the moment he decided to drink with the boys, and they both knew it. That's why, when Hercules Hansen weathered away, Chuck let his own anger and resentment mould him into the Chuck he was today._ _ _

___And nobody could criticize him for that._ _ _

__\---_ _

__He wakes up with a start, quick like a kick to the face. His heart is raw even as the foggy shreds of a dream dissipate quickly, and he curses to himself._ _

__His morning routine was pretty basic; pee, wash his face, grab an eat in silence, brush his teeth, feed Max. Get changed without feeling like his heart was about to burn through his chest._ _

__The basics._ _

__The drive to school is as tense as a coiled wire. He tries to calm himself down, but his mind is in the way. The dream has left an after-taste so bitter it almost stings. The only thing that can make him forget is thinking about the future. Chuck thinks of leaving, never seeing Herc again. Something close to ire cuts that thought loose. It's painful to know that the only thing worse than staying is leaving._ _

__He snaps back to the present when the Max's slobbery tongue is all over his cheek._ _

__They arrive shortly after, and there's a rock sitting in his throat that he swallows down when they exit the car. It's eleven in the morning and even though the match starts at twelve, the bleachers are starting to fill up with parents and students alike. He straps the leash to Max's neck, and the dog receives more female attention than Chuck could ever hope for. For some reason or another, that lifts his spirits a little bit._ _

__The boys spot him. Some of them ignore him and others bump his fist. He can't see Raleigh anywhere._ _

__After letting Max snoop around the hot dog stand, he finally spots Raleigh. He's sitting at the highest point of the bleachers, talking to Mako. Chuck's surprised to see her there; he'd always thought she felt negatively towards the sport. Too rough, he recalled her saying once. Raleigh's already in his uniform, and something inside Chuck twists when he sees them laugh._ _

__The lump in his throat is back by the time he gets to the locker rooms, but he shows nothing. Right there, he's thankful for the broadness of his shoulders and the arrogance that seems so natural on his face. The locker room makes the cacophony of the field feel far away. Some of the boys are hollering at each other, being overly loud to hide the adrenaline that rock their systems, but even then, there's a strange sense of calm in the room. They're probably as scared as Chuck feels, but if he can hide it, so can they._ _

__He goes to the bathroom to wash his face with cold water and he looks at his reflection on the mirror. As the water drips from the hollows of his face, he notices a tiny scar at the top of his left eyebrow. He remembers the resistance of Raleigh's face against his fist. He can barely recollect satisfaction from the memory, and he sighs._ _

__xxx_ _

__The whistle blows. The match is over._ _

__Well, mostly._ _

__A stupid move from the other team, and they're stuck in a short corner. The whistle means nothing. The bleachers remain painfully silent. Herc calls them all for a very brief piece of advice._ _

__"I trust you." he says at the end, and even though he's talking to the whole team, Chuck suddenly feels like the responsibility on his shoulders increments tenfold. If they score that goal, they win the match. If they win the match, there's less to worry about._ _

__They all get into their positions, and Raleigh goes next to the other team's goal. He'll be delivering the ball to Chuck. The rest of the team scatter around the shooting-arc. The stick feels clammy and heavy on his hands._ _

__"Goalkeeper, ready?" the referee calls, and the goalie waves his hand. Raleigh looks at Chuck in the eye and then nods. They're ready to go._ _

__When the whistle blows once again the whole field explodes. Raleigh hits the ball and the other team run to their designated positions. Chuck can see one of them running towards him. When he finally reaches the ball, he hits it with all his strength and prays that it's enough._ _

__It bounces from the goalie's hand and the whistle chimes again, Chuck stays standing up. The final score is one to one._ _

__The screaming of the crowd drowns him to nothing, but the bitterness of it all makes him want to spit. Herc's mouth is pressed into a line so thin that Chuck finds himself thinking back to thoughts of deprivation and approval. He feels heavy, but at least the match is over._ _

__When Raleigh tries to puts an arm around him, he pulls away._ _

__Even if most of the team is moderately pleased, Chuck can't take enjoyment from this failure. Sure, they hadn't _lost_ , but drawing their first match was mediocre and they all knew it. Raleigh looks hurt, but he pats Chuck on the shoulder nonetheless. _ _

__"Good match." he says quietly, and he sounds so sincere that Chuck wants to kick himself for being such an asshole. When Raleigh walks away, he waits a few seconds, then curses himself._ _

__"Hey!" he calls, catching up to him. Raleigh turns around, and Chuck gives him a stiff hand. "You...uh...you too." he says._ _

__He's not sure why, but when Raleigh smiles and returns the handshake, he feels like a better man._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clear something: 
> 
> -Why did Stacker (USA) serve with Herc Hansen (Australia) in the army? 
> 
> Chuck and Herc leave Australia after Angela dies. Everything in Australia makes Herc think of her, and he doesn't think he'll survive if he stays there. They move to the US when Chuck is 8 and attain American citizenship through widower's benefits. Chuck's only memory of Australia is playing "hockey" with his father on sunny Sunday afternoons, even if they used a beach ball and random sticks laying around the house.


	4. Here's to our Fuck-ups

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm a fail at updating, but I've been so busy lately that I've just managed to finish editing this. Two more chappy's to go!

When Chuck returns home, the exertion finally catches up with him and he only takes some of his clothes before falling asleep in the living room. He sleeps well, waking up hours later to the sound of the sizzling pan and the smell of browning beef.

"You're up." Herc says when he walks into the kitchen, all groggy eyes and ruffled hair.

"What are you doing?" Chuck asks. This is the first time in a long while that he sees Herc cooking anything beyond fried rice or chicken soup. Herc smiles a little bit.  
"Ah, well... I went to buy some beer, and I figured out we could have something besides take-out to eat."

Chuck takes a second to seize him up. He had forgotten about this Herc. Then he silently takes the cutting knife from his hands and starts chopping up the onions in his stead.

"Even if there's nothing to celebrate?" he asks quietly, his voice sounding naked even to his own ears. 

"Even if there's nothing to celebrate," Herc answers, taking the red peppers from the paper bag. Chuck finishes cutting up the onions and he's about to slide the pieces into the sautéing meat before his father speaks “Maybe you should put on a shirt before throwing those in." 

For once, he does what he's told. Kind of.

"That hardly qualifies as a shirt." Herc says with a raised eyebrow, looking at the frilly white apron Chuck is using to cover up his bare chest. Chuck snorts and resumes what he was doing. 

They fall into a dance, a rhythm punctuated by the swift wielding of the knife and the spicy composition of smells. They share a something from a bond that they thought had been severed long ago. 

The chilli is ready in twenty minutes, and the sounds that come out of Chuck's stomach are embarrassing. They spoon some of it into Max's food bowl, and share a chuckle when he burns his tongue with a yelp. The sky's dark, and Chuck realizes he doesn't know how much he slept, or what time it was. He makes no comment when they sit down and eat with perfect tranquillity.

For once, the air between them thrives.

xxx  
By the time his head hits the pillow, he's too rested to fall asleep but too sore to jog it out, so he lays in bed and thinks of nothing. Five minutes later, his cellphone rings and and he considers not answering. When the damn thing doesn't stop buzzing, he rolls to his side and answers it.

"Yeah?" he yawns. 

"Chuck?" he hears a voice through the line. 

"...Raleigh?" he asks, startled. "How the hell do you have my number?" 

"Ah...I'm good. I'm very good," Raleigh says, and Chuck can _hear_ him smiling "What plans?"

"What?" he asks again. Are they really doing this? 

"I said, what plans?"

It seemed they were.

"Nothing," he answers truthfully. He's too tired to even think, much less go out. "I'm literally in my PJs."

"You're no fun at all." he hears Raliegh say, but he doesn't sound bad-natured so Chuck doesn't mind. 

"I'm not here to entertain you." he answers plainly. 

"Fair enough," Raleigh says, and after a while "We should go out and celebrate."

Chuck snorts humourlessly. 

"We haven't played in the same match, obviously." he answers dryly.

"Yeah we did."

"You know what I mean. We lost. I fucked up." 

"You did," Raleigh offers, and Chuck is as much taken aback as he is annoyed "But we're human. We were _designed_ to be fuck-ups."

"You're talking out of your arse now." he mumbles, and he hears Raleigh laugh over the static of the line. 

"Let's celebrate." he repeats.

"What's up with everybody and celebrations. First Herc and now you. What the hell is wrong with you people..." 

"You went to celebrate with coach?" Raleigh asks incredulously, and Chuck's ears burn at the ridiculousness.

"Of course not. We only ate chilli, which qualifies as grade A hoopla for him."

"Well, are you coming or what?" he asks, sounding more serious. 

"I'm too tired." Chuck answers. It's easier that way.

"No you're not," Raleigh calls him out "If you were, you wouldn't be talking to me now."

And Chuck's retort dries in his tongue because he's right. He realizes this is the longest he's spoken to Raleigh in his life.

"How do you know I'm not being stupidly polite?" he probes. 

Now it's Raleigh's turn to snort "Chuck doesn't _do_ polite."

Eh, he's right on that one too.

"I'm also outside of your house, so I'm leaving you no choice," Chuck looks accusatory at the phone for a second, then stands up to push the curtains out to see through the window. Sure enough, Raleigh's sitting on the trunk of his car with his phone to his ear. Once he spots Chuck he smiles the best bullshitting smile he's ever seen "Surprise?"

Chuck can't decide if he's impressed or pissed off. 

"What happens if I don't come out." he tests him. 

"I have no doubt in my mind that you're going to come out," he says simply "Nobody can resist this car, not even you."

"No, but what if I really don't? What then?" he asks, very serious now. They're not friends. He has no obligation with Raleigh whatsoever.

Raleigh thinks for a second. "Well, I just knock on the door. I'm sure coach Herc wouldn't mind."

Oh, the sneaky bastard. 

"Let me put something on." he mutters, defeated, and hangs up. He puts some sneakers on and slips himself into a black t-shirt and a pair of jeans. 

"Herc, I'm going out!" he calls out, climbing down the stairs. 

"Where?" his father asks. 

"Out!" he returns. When he's about to open the front door, he runs a hand through his face. He takes a deep breath, and opens the door. The car is, naturally, as beautiful as ever, all navy blue and polished metal. Raleigh’s wearing a sweater to match. 

"Hey." he greets him. He's inside of the car by now, Chuck fist bumps him.

"Hey," The night air makes his hairs stand on end, and he regrets not bringing a jacket along. He leans down to be in eye level with Raleigh, propping his elbows on the window sill. "What are we celebrating again?"

"If I recall correctly, we're celebrating our fuck-ups," He turns on the engine, soft rock threading through the nightly silence. "If you jump in, you'll see."

"I don't really think I should, Raleigh." Chuck says.

"Well, _I_ think you should." Raleigh says casually, trying to get used to the way Chuck’s accent makes his name sound like a drawl. 

"I'm serious." he says, and he tenses up. Raleigh sighs, opening the co-pilot's door. Forcing Chuck to step aside.

"I'm being serious, too." he answers, looking tired. Chuck finds himself unable to put further resistance, and he reluctantly climbs into the car. A voice at the back of his head says: _This is called trust_. 

And Chuck Hansen isn't used to trust. 

xxx  
"Why don't you buy this one?" Chuck says with grin, holding the pink sparkly mouthguard in the air. 

"Comedy gold, Hansen," Raleigh huffs back, turning around to run a hand through the smooth silver hockey sticks on the counter. The store smells of plastic film and IcyHot. "How much?" He asks the attendant. 

"Well, it depends. You play indoor, or field?" He asks. Raleigh looks at his name tag.

"... _Newt_?...Your name is Newt?" he asks, scrunching his eyes. "Really?"

"Of course I’m not. I'm Newton, but people call me Newt," he says, holding up the thinnest stick of the ones between them "So, indoor or field?"

"You're gonna buy a new stick? Didn't you come just for a mouthgard?" Chuck says, approaching his side. 

"Well, both are beat. Besides, I have money, why not spend it?" 

"Pff. Not all of us get allowances." Chuck says and it looks like he's joking, even if he actually means it. When Newt hears the sound of shoe boxes avalanching from the storage, he rolls his eyes and trots off.

Raleigh pulls a face "Who the hell mentioned an allowance?"

"Well, that, or you have a job," Chuck says. When Raleigh doesn't answer he makes a double take "You have a job? Where?" 

Raleigh nods "I work part-time at the gym."

The idea sounds so ridiculous that Chuck can help the sharp laugh "Really? Wow. Didn't expect that."

"Yeah, well," he turns his attention to the sticks again, and leans over the counter. "It's still honest money. Where is this Newt guy?"

Just as he says it, Newt comes back, rolling down the sleeves of his shirt and apologizes "Where were we?"

"Nice tats." Chuck comments. 

"Thanks!" Newt looks at Raleigh "I like your boyfriend."

"Oh?" Raleigh eyes Chuck, who suddenly looks really intimidating. "No, he's not my boyfriend." he says simply.

"Ok, whatever." Newt says, carefree, and Raleigh can just _tell_ Chuck is brushing against the limits of his self-control. He's trying to guess if Chuck will punch the attendant, or maybe run off in a fit.

"I want a composite stick," Raleigh says to the oblivious Newt "Mostly fibreglass will do, but with a decent percentage of carbon, or else I can't work with it." Chuck leave's the store calmly, so Raleigh pays little mind. 

\--

"Took you long enough," Chuck mutters, acting as if he's too focused on the vending machine to spare him a glance. When he does look, however, he frowns "You didn't even buy anything."

Raleigh shows him the glittery pink mouthguard with a smile. Chuck snorts.

"Carrying a stick through a mall is an inconvenience. We can buy it some other day." he says, putting the embarrassingly bright plastic gear in his pocket.  
Some other day. We.

Chuck doesn't know if he's being too lenient with Raleigh, if he should let him assume that these small escapades are going be repeated. He didn't want people to assume the wrong thing, _he_ didn't want to assume the wrong thing. 

"Maybe I should leave." he says. 

“What?”

“Yeah, I should probably get going.”

Then Raleigh makes an exasperated noise at the back of his throat; his patience worn thin.

"When are you going to stop doing this?" he asks.

"Stop what?" Chuck spews, suddenly feeling angry again.

"This," he gestures Chuck with both hands "This...charade you play, this act. Not everybody is trying to screw you over, Chuck. _I'm_ most definitely not, so why can’t you stop beating around the bush? "

"What are you talking about? It's not like that." 

"It's every damn bit like that, Chuck!" Raleigh snaps. He closes his eyes and rubs a hand over his face to try to steel himself “If you really don’t like having me around, then you can say so."

“That’s not-“

“Then is it because of last time? In my car?”

It's the first time either address the matter, and saying it out loud makes it too real. 

"I had forgotten about that." he says calmly, but of course he's lying. Raleigh sees right through him. 

“Yeah right. “ The disdain in his face looks so foreign “Im over that, Chuck. And so should you."


	5. Two Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So basically I`m a piece of shit that waits 4 years before updating but lol
> 
> I will try to finish this shit now because it haunts me everyday.

It´s a thing of destiny, but the season is slow and so are the teams. Chuck is pleasantly surprised that they´re doing pretty well in the scoreboards, their next match in a week´s time against the BFGs. Of course, the team´s _official_ name is the Giants, but let the boy have some fun and taunt them a little bit. If Raleigh has been acting off the last couple of training sessions, nobody mentions it.

 

After their tense last conversation, Chuck had walked off and all the way home again. He was getting really tired of pretending to be friends because they weren`t. Besides, he wasn´t gonna let anybody how he should behave. 

 

Training sessions have duplicated in time; two hours a day really did a number on the boys, but all of them could agree it was necessary, especially with that 1-1 score they almost didn´t even out. Still, most days they would finish training so drained that, in most cases, their grades had started to falter.

 

"You know, Stacker called me the other day," Herc tells Chuck suddenly right before starting training, "He´s receiving  complaints from homeroom teachers about the team slacking off with their grades."

 

Chuck scoffs.

 

Herc continues "I´m telling you because I think they`ll listen to their captain."

 

Chuck takes a long drink from his water bottle. "Yeah, I guess," he answers.  Fuck the GPA requirement for extracurriculars "I´ll talk to them."

 

The first hour of training consists in basic warmup; some laps around the field and basic agility exercises. Friday practice always seems to be on the ends of the spectrum; it´s either very fast pace and intense or extremely lazy. Today it´s the latter. 

 

The second half of the training session is a hockey match. Herc picks the groups depending on what he wants to finesse (or to try players in new positions) and off they go. Coincidentally, Chuck and Raleigh usually maintain the same positions as strikers on different sides.  Everybody is distracted, it`s evident in the rookie mistakes they`re making, but none of the passes Raleigh is making hit even close to Chuck`s vicinity, landing on the other team`s hands. It irritates Chuck much more than it should`ve. 

 

"For fuck´s sake Becket, who are you aiming that pass to!?" Chuck yells for the fifth time today as the ball rolls off limits towards the locker room. 

 

Raleigh snaps,  throwing his stick so hard against the grass that it leaves an open patch of dirt in its wake. Everybody- Herc included- flinches at the sight, taken aback by the sudden explosion of rage so unlike him. They stare vacantly at the big number 18 on his back as he leaves the field to go after the ball and into the changing room.

 

Chuck yelling at them was not only standard practice; it was to be expected as the captain and leader of the team. Everbody on the field turns to look at him, not accusatory but bewildered. Normally, he would yell so everybody would gear into training mode again.

 

Chuck drags a hand across his gleaming face "Take a break for 10 minutes." he says, the annoyance apparent in his tone and demeanor. Again, standard practice. 

 

He hears the spray of the shower before he finds Raleigh under it.

 

"I´m showe-"

 

"What the fuck was that!?" Chuck cuts him off angrily, ignoring his privacy or decency.

 

"I´m showering." He repeats without turning around, standing shirtless in the open shower. His voice is calm but with an edge that Chuck is not sure how to interpret. He doesn`t care though. 

 

"I asked you what the fuck was that, Becket? Get your shit together, we`re in championship season."

  
"Fuck off." Raleigh mutters under his breath.

 

Chuck contorts his face in rage "Who do you think you´re talking to like that, you fucking sissy?" and shoves Raleigh with both hands. He slips and falls onto the wall head first with a thump audible over the spraying water. 

 

When he realizes what happened, Raleigh sweeps a kick that makes Chuck crash onto the wet floor. Soon enough, Raleigh is looming over him, hand on his head.

 

"You`re pretty smug for being a sissy yourself."

 

xxx

 

Chuck leaves the school with the remnants of his dignity intact; Raleigh stormed off leaving him wet and lost.

 

He called him a _sissy_. 

 

Something close to fear had seized him the second he`d said the word and double when he heard it from the other`s mouth, can´t stop thinking about it all the way back home. He feels humiliated, angry and confused. His phone starts vibrating in his pocket, and he knows its Herc.

  
"What?" He answers unceremoniously.

  
"What do you mean ' _What_ '? Where the hell are you?"

 

He sounds exasperated.

 

"I´m almost home," he answers simply. "Gotta go." and hangs up.  He doesn´t feel like talking at the moment, clearly.

 

Max welcomes him with a bark and a slobbery kiss, which makes him feel a little less like shit.

He starts undressing in the living room, leaving his damp tube socks and shin guards on the carpet, all the way up the stairs and into his bathroom. The hot spray of water that he wishes would clear his mind, in turn, makes him more prone to thinking.  What a weird couple of days these had turned out to be. 

 

He felt peeved at himself; a week away from a championship match and he storms off like that. Normally, he wouldn't give a rat's ass but, come on. How was he supposed to explain why he was wet and bruised? Maybe it's the pent-up anger and frustration, or the cascade of scalding water down his tense back, but he begins to feel blood going places he really wishes they weren´t. 

 

_Sissy_...

 

Was  _he_  a sissy? He´d relegated the events of that drunken evening, that seemed so long ago but really wasn't, to the furthermost space at the back of his mind. He was now left with the slow burn of shame and arousal that he struggled to control or eradicate and it terrified him. It was impossible that he was gay; he´d had sex with girls exclusively. The feeling of insecurity was a distant memory he`d sworn never to succumb again, but even that was not enough to hide how hot and hard he was feeling. 

 

He turns on the cold water to shake his mind from the conflicting thoughts. 

 

xxx

 

He wakes up thanks to a sneeze that rocks his body so hard, there´s goosebumps all over his naked chest.

  
_Ah fuck._

 

He´s on his bed with a towel wrapped around his waist when he looks outside his window. It`s already cold and dark, definitely not a time to be damp and uncovered. The alarm clock shines with the time, a neon green 10 flashes on and off and Chuck curses as he puts some socks on. 

 

It´s Friday night, so his phone is bursting with texts and messages, girls asking him if he´s going here or there and the like. He doesn´t want to answer any of them. He´s groggy, uncomfortable and sore, reckons he should´ve at least done some stretches before falling asleep. 

 

As he puts on jogging shorts on, he spots a blue-black bruise blooming on his thigh. The events of the evening come rushing back to his mind, and he unconsciously puts his palm to his head at the memory. Tomorrow they have practice, once again, and this week has been so intense he decides to go for a jog before going to sleep for real this time. Rolling on his hoodie as he goes down the stairs, he hears the living room`s television blaring. Surprisingly, Herc is watching the TV, some empty cans of beers on the coffee table in front of him. 

 

"I´m going out," Chuck says, grabbing a banana from the kitchen counter and peeling it 

 

Herc doesn´t answer right away, making Chuck think that maybe he`s drunk and passed out. 

 

"Chuck," he suddenly calls over the sound of the football re-run he`s watching  "What did you do to Becket?" 

 

The sudden question floors him. 

 

_None of your fucking business._

 

"What do you mean?" he says instead, trying to understand why he feels so angry all of a sudden. 

 

"I mean... I´m not gonna make you answer me, Chuck," his father says, face unseen "But don`t be so harsh on him." 

 

Chuck wants to leave now. 

 

"It`s been two years." 

 

He's still angry at Becke. He isn`t his friend. But the realization makes his stomach drop nonetheless. 

 

"It`s a wonder his family hasn`t moved after that accident, you know," Herc continues, emboldened by the alcohol and the anonymity of not looking at his son in the face "Yancy was a good kid..." 

 

The answer he receives is the slamming of the front door.

 

xxx

 

The night is much colder than he would`ve guessed, and Chuck regrets not wearing sweatpants instead of shorts. Still, soon enough, the constant movement heats him up enough for him not to lament that for too long. He was thankful for how the repetitiveness of his steps always seemed to dull his thoughts numb. His breaths turns into white puffs of vapor halfway through the same park he always runs through, the one with the duck lake with its tall trees and cattails near the riverbed.  

 

There's a man sitting on the park bench overlooking the lake, where the water would reflect the moon. Today, the new moon shines in its absence.

 

The man takes a swig from a bottle in its hand, hooded face obscured from Chuck`s vision until he sits down beside it and it's too late.

 

"Raleigh?" he asks, taken aback.

 

_What are you doing here?_ The question is left unsaid, but they both know he`s thinking it. He tries to make his tone pointed, but honestly, he just sounds scared. Maybe a part of him really is.

 

"Why would you care." he answers, voice nasal and slightly slurred.

 

Was Raleigh... _crying_?

 

"I don´t." Chuck says before he can really think.

 

_Why am I doing this?_

 

"Good then," Raleigh answers with a sniff. He points the neck of the bottle to his face as an offering.

 

_I should leave._

 

He doesn´t say this either. Silently, he grabs the half-full bottle and smells its content.

 

"Jesus Christ, Raleigh, are you drinking rubbing alcohol?" he asks, face scrunched up in disgust. 

 

"Why would you care," he says again, suddenly pulling the bottle from Chuck´s hands and spilling half of its content on the concrete sidewalk. "I´ll drink whatever the hell I want."

 

_It´s been two years_ begins ringing in his ears, almost making him flinch.Chuck has in good mind just leaving wordlessly, letting Becket mourn by himself. 

 

He doesn`t.

 

"Rum?" he says, an awkward attempt at steering the conversation to dense territory. Raleigh grunts his agreement. Chuck holds his breath and takes a swig of the acrid cheap rum, the aftertaste almost making him heave.

 

"Tough day?" he asks pathetically. Even though he wants to leave, the weight of _knowing_ is too heavy.

 

"A tough couple of years, really." Raleigh answers.

 

It´s a start.

 

They begin with some nonsense small talk, uncomfortable and empty but comforting nonetheless. 

 

"Stacker is pretty pissed at Herc," Chuck says after a while "Apparently, homeroom teachers are throwing a fit cause the guys are failing their assignments."

 

"Yeah, Mako told me," he takes a swig from the bottle "I`m probably the one with the lowest grades in the team at the moment."

 

It´s easy to know why, too.

 

"It`s funny, you know. Yancy used to complain about the GPA requirement all the time. He was always struggling with that." 

 

They stop talking after that. The bottle is empty now, so Raleigh puts it on the ground 

  
"Why are you still here, Chuck?" He asks suddenly. For the first time all night, Chuck can really see his face, how inflamed his eyelids look

 

After a long pause, he answers "I don`t know."

 

Raleigh snorts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probablly will update soon with the last chapter. It will be super long so yeah.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I kind of have the length of this fanfiction in my mind, and I'm almost finished with it, I just don't know how many chapters it will have.


End file.
